Page 62 of Better Than a Duke
“They can sit in our box with us?”
“Edmund and Mrs. Silbern? I’m afraid not. We’ve already invited Lady Pauline to join us.”
She sighed, her eyebrows furrowing. “A horseanda play.”
Hmm. His daughter generally didn’t mind sharing him with friends. Nor had she said much about Lady Pauline at all, now that he considered it, when she had things to say about everything else. She talked about Iris constantly. “You should be happy Pauline likes going riding. I’m quite happy we have so much in common, the three of us.”
“Because you need a wife to be happy. I know.”
His happiness didn’t actually figure into it, unless it was him being happy he’d found a way to enable Rebecca to be well-prepared for her future as a lady and eventually a wife. It washerhappiness that mattered. “Being a family would make me happy, yes. Cricket, you like Lady Pauline, don’t you?”
Shrugging, she gathered up her toast and cup of tea and left the table. “I don’t know her very well yet. I’ll finish my breakfast in the schoolroom, because I haven’t forgotten that you think some veal and a pie makes up for Mrs. Silbern losing Delilah. When I go to Grove House for my rhyming lesson, may I tell Eddie and his mama about dinner tonight?”
“You may.” Beckett inclined his head. “I may join you for your lesson. I’m curious to see this tutor of Master Edmund’s.”
“Well, Eddie says he’s nice, but quite mad, so be ready to flee if you need to.”
He did his damnedest to keep the grin off his face. “Thank you for the warning. I will do my utmost. Is Mrs. Brubbins accompanying you?”
“Yes. She says she doesn’t believe that anyone as absurd as Eddie says Mr. Fredericks is can possibly be real.”
With Mrs. Brubbins going, his presence wasn’t necessary, and that… disappointed him. Because he wanted to see Iris.Beckett took a breath. Going to visit her was the one thing hedidn’tneed to be doing today.
Logically one pleasurable evening didn’t change anything. Emotionally, though, physically, he and Iris… He liked her. A great deal. They were friends. Friends who’d needed a connection, even momentarily. Did he want more from her?
Iris insisted that daydreaming, wishing, was a waste of time. In the first few years after Lydia’s death he would have agreed with that, because wishing he had someone else on whom to rely when a screaming three-year-old wouldn’t be soothed had only made his task more difficult. For quite a while he’d attempted to stop wishing, himself.
In the past few weeks, however, since his mother had made her one wise point about Rebecca needing someone suitable to introduce her into Society, he’d caught himself drifting through nebulous handfuls of moments where a woman sat beside him and a trio of young ones laughed and played around them. In the past few days he’d caught glimpses of her, and she hadn’t been Lady Pauline Grenedy.
But daydreaming didn’t make Iris more socially agile, or change her temperament, or lessen her justified anger at the mistreatment the world had handed her. It didn’t make her any less stubborn, certainly. Pauline made sense. But Iris complicated things. Made him feel things. Things that partners in a mutually beneficial business agreement weren’t supposed to feel. Things he didn’t feel for or with Pauline.
What heshoulddo, then, was invite Pauline to go riding with him. Whether he’d meant to do so or not, he’d purchased her a horse, and no doubt she would wish to try Delilah’s paces. And they could chat, he could reassure himself once again that she would be a good addition to the household and to Rebecca’s life. And to his, of course.
It hadn’t escaped him that thus far she’d been the one planning dinners and luncheons and informing him which soirees she would be attending. He’d followed along, which made sense because she’d made it easy to do so. But he hadn’t led. He hadn’t invited her to go driving or riding or to visit any of the places he and Rebecca—and Iris and Edmund—had been exploring.
Taking a woman places, seeking her out to go riding or have a picnic luncheon or stroll through Hyde Park, was what made a courtship. But he wasn’t courting Iris. Not intentionally. Neither, though, was he attempting to woo Pauline. He was determining whether she was compatible with a family that already existed, made up of Rebecca and him. Except that in the past few weeks it had been them plus Edmund and Iris. This was all very confusing, he was feeling things he didn’t particularly wish to feel ever again, and he wasn’t feeling them for the woman he’d decided would best suit as Rebecca’s stepmother. “What a damned mess you’ve made,” he muttered under his breath.
And thinking about any of it only made it worse. Scowling, he picked up the newspaper. More taxation controversy, another outlandish party hosted by Prince George had ruffled feathers and would end up with Parliament voting to pay the Regent’s outstanding bills again, and in the gossip pages a Lord F—had been seen escorting a lady not his wife to the theater; a Lady J—had allowed her ankles to be seen by all and sundry when she stepped too enthusiastically into a coach; one Mrs. S—had been seen wheeling her ill aunt about Town with such vigor that bystanders began to fear for the older lady’s safety, especially in light of Mrs. S—’s reported temper and penchant for violence; and a Lord H—had been seen dining with a certain duke and duchess and their granddaughter, making a long-awaited proposal imminent.
“My lord,” Butler said from the doorway, “is something amiss?”
Beckett uncurled his fingers from the wrecked crumple of the newspaper. “Yes. Someone has just shoved me into church.”
Damn it all, he couldn’t even pretend that he’d had a choice, a say, in any of it. Had he ever? Had his mother orchestrated all of this, moving all the chess pieces on the board and allowing him to think that he’d been the one in charge? It had taken nearly ten years, but she’d finally figured out how to get what she wanted.
“Is there something I might do to assist you, my lord?” the butler asked.
“Not unless you can give me back the past two days or produce a spare horse from one of your pockets,” he commented, slamming the newspaper down and rising. “Otherwise, I will be next door at Grove House.” No need for courting if they’d already jumped to the part where all they needed was a date to meet at the church. And given a choice, he would rather chat with Iris.
“Very good, my lord. I’m afraid I have no horses. I might be able to scare up a cat, if you give me a moment.”
Butler had just made a jest. Beckett eyed him. “I see you’ve gone mad as well. At least I’ll have company at Bedlam.”
“Yes, my lord. I imagine we may all end up there.”
“I don’t know if he’s going to join us or not,” Rebecca said, sitting on her dressing chair to pull on her shoes. “I shouldn’t have been so angry with him, but I’m certain that with the four of us going riding he was nearly about to fall in love with the Mongoose. But now Masquerade has Delilah, and I don’t want to go riding with her.”
Mrs. Brubbins nodded. “I understand. But you need to realize that your father has chosen the woman he wants to marry.”
